


Finding Home

by AngelZash



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwalin Is A Softie, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 13:12:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1859298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelZash/pseuds/AngelZash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bilbo was young, his mother left to go on an adventure and she never came home. After his father dies, his fortunes take a turn for the worst, so he picks himself up to go searching for her. What he finds is not what he expected, but it might be exactly what he needs.</p>
<p>This is an answer to a kink meme prompt. Appropriate tags will be added as needed and the rating may change as the story goes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt can be found at http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/11476.html?thread=23862996#t23862996 and is as follows:
> 
> In an AU where Erebor never fell, Belladonna left Bungo and Bilbo when Bilbo was just a child. After his father dies, Bilbo sets off in search of his mother. The last he heard, she was in Erebor.
> 
> He arrives there to not only find that she has died, but he meets her husband - her other husband that she left his father for (that Bilbo had no clue about.)
> 
> DoYC or OC had no idea that Belladonna had a son, and he is hurt and angry at his late wife too, but he also wants to get to know Bilbo - partially because of his love for Belladonna and partially because he feels really bad for him.
> 
> Bilbo decides to stay because he wants to understand and get to know his step-father (despite his feelings about his mother's actions). Also, now that his father is dead, he feels alone in the Shire, and DoYC is technically his family.
> 
> DurinOYC (Thorin, Frerin, Fili, or Kili) are friends or family with DoYC and they get to know Bilbo along the way and fall for him.
> 
> Belladonna's husband can be an OC, but bonus if it's someone from the company like Dwalin or Nori so we can see Bilbo's interactions with their family.
> 
> The relationship between Bilbo and DurinOYC can be a secondary, small storyline, but I really want all the angst and family feels, an Bilbo eventually finding a home and new family in Erebor.
> 
> It might have taken a slight deviation in a couple points, but I'm hoping the OP likes this! 
> 
> Since this is a total AU, I am playing with the character's ages, as you will see with Bilbo first of all. You will also see it when we get to Fili, Kili, and Ori as well. 
> 
> I edited this, but if I missed anything, or if anyone has any constructive criticism, please feel free to say! 
> 
> Enjoy!

_The Shire_

The sun was shining when they buried Bungo Baggins. A gentle breeze ruffled Bilbo’s curls as he stared sightlessly at the tombstone. The scent of flowers was strong in the air from all the flowers left by Bilbo’s relatives and friends. He could hear the Thain and some of the others discussing something a short ways away, but he didn’t pay it much attention. 

Bilbo was almost of age, very nearly thirty years old, and he stood over his father’s fresh grave as he considered what he would do next. He knew he was extremely young, but he should still be old enough to live on his own, even if he didn’t really want to. Bilbo didn’t know why, but his mother had left them some years before. His father would never speak to him about his mother, but he had said once that she was in Erebor. Perhaps if he wrote her, she’d come home finally? 

Or perhaps he could catch a cloud and ride it to Erebor. 

Bilbo sighed for what seemed the thousandth time that day and decided to make the trek back home. There was a small get together being held in Bungo’s honor now, but Bilbo didn’t feel like going to it and receiving all those hollow condolences. It wasn’t like they would bring his father back. 

With a last lingering look at his father’s flower-covered grave, Bilbo turned and started making his way back to Bag End. He didn’t get very far, however. Mungo Baggins grabbed his arm as he passed by and pulled him in for a quick sideways hug. 

“I’m sorry, m’boy, about your father’s passing,” he said, his voice soft in its sadness. 

Shrugging, Bilbo glanced over at his aunt and uncle, the Sackville-Baggins before answering, “Thank you, Grandfather. But--”

“It’s such a great loss for the Shire,” Camellia Sackville-Baggins said, interrupting as though she hadn’t known Bilbo was still talking. He knew she had, but he let her go anyway. It was always easiest to just let her go and then escape her presence as fast as possible. “Still, at least he left us with such wonderful memories to cherish.”

“Yes,” Mungo said, his eyes narrowed slightly at her. “Well, we still have our Bilbo now.”

“And Bungo would want him to have the best of care,” Camellia said, sounding as though she were insisting on a point she had already made at length. “Wouldn’t he, Longo?” 

Longo nodded and made a noise of agreement, though he didn’t exactly meet his father’s or Bilbo’s eyes. 

A sinking feeling started in Bilbo’s belly. This was not a conversation he wanted to be a part of, if he knew anything of conversations. In fact, Bilbo was pretty sure he didn’t want this conversation to happen at all!

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, trying to sound as mature as possible. “But I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself and Bag End is--”

“Nonsense! You’re not even of age yet,” Camellia told him, sniffing at the very thought. 

“Camellia,” Mungo said, the warning clear in his dark tone. He turned to look at Bilbo. “I’m sorry, Bilbo. But you are only twenty-nine--”

“Only for a couple more months,” Bilbo protested automatically. Horror was beginning to fill him now. What was he going to do? They were deciding his fate without him! He had to make them listen. “And I’m near enough. I took care of Father on my own for the last year. I can take care of myself. And there’s the Greenhands near by if I need any help.”

“An adult wouldn’t,” Camellia told him, looking victorious in her black ruffles. “That is why we are going to move in with you.”

“Only until he is of age,” Mungo reminded her. He looked back at Bilbo, “It’s not forever, Bilbo. I promise.”

Camellia glanced at him and then at Mungo before stating firmly, “We will remain as long as he has need of us.”

“I don’t need you now,” Bilbo told her bluntly, his temper snapping. “Grandfather--”

“How dare you! We are doing you a favor and--” Camellia broke off at Longo’s hand on her arm. 

“His father was just buried today, Camellia,” Mungo told her firmly, the anger in his voice kept firmly in check. “I could always find another member of the Baggins family if you are not up to the delicate task ahead.”

There was a pause as Camellia met Mungo’s hard gaze. Then she dropped her eyes and visibly attempted to look as meek as she was ever able to look. “I apologize, Thain. I am merely…overwhelmed by emotion today as well.”

“Hmmm…” Bungo said, eyeing her. “Of course. But the agreement remains. You will leave Bag End and Bilbo behind on his 33rd birthday, if not before.” 

Not meeting Mungo’s eyes, Camellia nodded her agreement. 

Heaving a deep sigh, Mungo turned back to Bilbo. “You have my apologies, Bilbo, but it’s only for a few years. You’ll be alright.”

Bilbo stared at his grandfather and knew without a doubt that he had just lost control of his life. 

*********************

_Three years later, Erebor_

The letter had been sitting on Belladonna’s bedside table for the past year. It was propped against the little jewelry case Bella had kept there, it’s eggshell color contrasting sharply with the bright colors of the case. Her name, though with her unmarried last name of Baggins as always, was scrawled across it in a beautiful calligraphy. 

Every morning, when Dwalin got up, he’d look at it and try not to think about why it was still sitting there unopened. Every night, he did the same. Some nights he could trick himself into believing that she had merely set it there to read in the morning after a busy day. Other nights he would avert his eyes as quickly as possible. 

This morning, Dwalin glanced at it and considered opening it, if only to find out who the sender was. He should probably tell them. Whoever it was would most likely want to know. But he didn’t. 

Instead he wandered out to find his brother, Balin, clearing the table of breakfast, save a plate that had been made for him. Eggs, bacon, and some hash with a biscuit on the side. A mug of water had been helpfully provided, and Dwalin was certain he knew who had chosen that particular morning drink for him. In her honor, he smiled at the mug as he drank it, managing to suppress most of his shudder.

“You haven’t much time,” Balin told him as he piled the dishes in the sink for the housekeeper when she came. “Thorin has a meeting with Thranduil today. It will probably go long, so you won’t have much afterwards, but it does start early.”

“Eggsellent,” Dwalin grumbled around his eggs. He swallowed. “I get to be intimidating to a bunch of elves.”

Balin snorted. “Nothing intimidates Thranduil or his guards, you know that. We just need to make sure no one decides to kill anyone else.”

“That’s what I said,” Dwalin said. He piled the rest of his breakfast into his biscuit and stood up. “We had better get going then. Wouldn’t want to keep the namby-pamby tree-shaggers waiting, would we?”

Balin gave him an unimpressed look and sigh. “Used to be, you’d actually finish breakfast first.”

Dwalin gave his brother a hurt glare and took a savage bite out of his food. 

“Fine…” Balin shook his head, his face sad. “We’ll go. We’ll go.”

Grunting, Dwalin led the way out. 

The day went relatively quickly for being one where he had to stand guard over a tedious meeting with elves. Thorin was even civil to them as far as Dwalin was concerned. He doubted Balin would agree, but Dwalin thought the elf king to be especially haughty today. Thranduil could do with having more people call him a name or two, really. 

Lunch was eaten with the elves, so Dwalin hadn’t been sure exactly how well that was going to stay down. But then no one ate much, seeing as how they were all too busy trying to glare or snipe each other into submission. 

When the meeting finally did break, they were no closer to an agreement on the main issues than when they had started, though they had agreed to give it a week to allow everyone to come back with cooler heads. Since it was nearly dinnertime, Dwalin bid his brother a good night and then caught Thorin’s attention.

“Leaving for home,” Thorin groused, still glaring at the door through which Thranduil had left. 

“Yeh,” Dwalin told him. “Can’t all hang around and be pampered.” 

Thorin finally turned to look at him. “You know, you are always welcome to move--”

“No,” Dwalin cut him off in a firm voice. “We’re fine where we are. Don’t want to be uprooting needlessly where we don’t have to.”

Thorin frowned, but nodded his assent. “You are always welcome. You know that.”

“I know,” Dwalin said, feeling himself soften somewhat. “It would be...easier. But I can’t... She was there. And I…”

“Yes.” Thorin reached out to grasp Dwalin’s forearm. “But she wouldn’t want you to mourn her forever, old friend.”

Nodding, Dwalin felt a smile twisting his features. “I have to go now. It’s almost dinnertime. I’ll see you tomorrow. Try not to get yourself killed before then.”

Thorin snorted, but nodded with a smile. 

Balin walked home with Dwalin, keeping his peace along the way. That suited Dwalin just fine. He didn’t particularly care for much conversation at that point. At least he’d have a happy evening with his family to look forward to, but until then, he was happy with his silence. The walk home was always very good for letting off the stress of the day before he reached his family. Even before, he hadn’t liked to mar his time with them with memories or thoughts of work.

It could also be very crowded, so they would often need to avoid other pedestrians along the pathways. They could still technically talk, but Dwalin simply preferred not to. Belladonna had told him he was stoic and could do with chatting more. He had only been able to talk more with her, however. She’d had that effect on him. On everyone around her really. 

“What do we have here?”

Dwalin started at Balin’s sudden question, not realizing that they’d already reached his hallway. Looking up, he saw what Balin meant. 

A small figure was standing in front of his door and was looking anxious around. Even from here, Dwalin could tell it was a hobbit--those feet were unmistakable--but he couldn’t tell much else. As they drew closer, Dwalin saw the figure had blond hair, just the color his Belladonna had had. He felt his heart ache again at the realization. The little hobbit was also dirty and travel-worn with a pack over his shoulders, so he was obviously fresh off the road. 

“Hello,” Balin said, his voice kind as it always was when faced with someone who was obviously very young, as this hobbit was. “Could we help you?”

The hobbit turned, his eyes wide with startlement, and Dwalin’s heart almost stopped. Those were his Belladonna’s eyes. Hazel-green with specks of gold dancing through them. How could this boy have her eyes?

“I-I-” The hobbit stammered. He swallowed hard, visibly gathering his courage. “Um… Yes? I mean… I’m looking for my mother: Belladonna Baggins. I’m her son, Bilbo.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, everyone. I've been having migraines like you wouldn't believe! Even ended up in an urgent care clinic for one (and scared a couple of poor intake nurses even). I have a migraine right now, in fact, but I'm fighting through it to get stuff up finally. 
> 
> So here is Chapter 2. Poor Bilbo makes a nasty discovery, Dwalin makes a nasty discovery and a decision, and Balin's poor head is probably spinning. 
> 
> As for comments, I'm sorry I haven't replied! I really wasn't sure how to reply to many of them without giving things away!! Let's just say, though, that's there's a lot of back story that is going to come out eventually. Thank you to everyone who commented and replied! I loved seeing and reading them all!
> 
> Now to go get Chapter 3 written along with an original work I'm working on. I also started a writing blog centered on writing and women in writing, if anyone's interested. It's at hlarmstrong.wordpress.com. 
> 
> As usual, all constructive criticism is welcomed and loved! Please enjoy!

“Son?” Dwalin stared at the young hobbit before him in disbelief, feeling as though he’d just lost a fight with an Ent. 

“Don’t you mean brother?” Balin glanced at Dwalin worriedly. “Only, Bella never mentioned having a son.”

The boy, Bilbo, looked both confused and a bit hurt for a moment as he shifted on his feet again. “Didn’t she? Only… She hasn’t been home in almost fifteen years and I’ll be of age in a couple months, so I thought I’d come find her.”

The gutted feeling in Dwalin’s stomach that had started when Bilbo had announced himself, suddenly grew even more painful. 

“Are you try to tell me that Bella, my sweet, loving Bella, would _abandon_ a child?” Balin had to hold Dwalin back as he all but snarled the question at Bilbo.

Even still, Bilbo’s eyes grew wide with fear. He stumbled back away from Dwalin. “W-what? Your-- No! She left me with my f-father! Bungo Baggins!”

At that, Dwalin stopped dead. Baggins had been Belladonna’s last name. But if that was this hobbit’s father’s last name as well, and this hobbit was Belladonna’s son as he said… Well, Dwalin really didn’t think he liked how this conversation was going to end. Not at all. 

“Could there have been another Belladonna Baggins?” Balin sounded breathless and not a little desperate himself. 

“No,” Bilbo said, still seeming terrified even as confusion was creeping into his voice. “There was only one in the Shire that I know of. And most hobbits never go further than their relatives’ smials, so she’d be the only to have left in generations.”

Dwalin shared a look with Balin that confirmed his worst fears: This would not end well. Still, no one could say he didn’t see a thing through to the end. He leveled his sternest look at the young hobbit before him, ignoring how it made the boy blanch.

“What was your mother’s maiden name, boy?” 

“Dwalin…” Balin warned him, belatedly, vainly, to stop him. Dwalin simply shook him off without even glancing away from Bilbo.

Bilbo looked more confused than ever now. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I--We need to know,” Dwalin insisted. He would never admit to the faint undertone of a plea in his when he said it though.

Brow furrowing just as Belladonna’s had when she was really concentrating on something, Bilbo told him, “Took. She was a Took. So she was Belladonna Took until she married my father.”

The world disappeared from around Dwalin as a keening noise started up. It took him a moment to come back to himself enough to realize that the keening was coming from him. And that he had managed to punch the stone wall beside his door, causing pain to radiate up through his arm from his bloody and probably broken hand. He pulled his hand back and leaned forward to rest his head against the cool stone. 

“Is he alright?” Bilbo’s soft voice sounded frightened and unsure again.

“No,” Balin said, his voice soft and sad as it hadn’t been since Belladonna’s death. “He’s just suffered a huge blow.” 

“Oh.” There was a pause for a moment before Bilbo asked, “Was it something...I said?”

“You could say that,” Balin answered. “But it’s not your fault, lad. It couldn’t be helped.”

There was a long quiet minute and then a whisper of fabric before anyone spoke again. 

“I apologize for hurting you, Mister...Dwarf...sir,” Bilbo said, sounding suddenly much closer. 

Starting, Dwalin spun around and stared down with wide eyes at the hobbit. Bilbo stared back up at him, regret shining out of his wide hazel eyes. Those really were his Belladonna’s eyes. 

But she hadn’t been his, had she?

“What happened to your father, laddie?” Balin broke Dwalin’s concentration, and Dwalin glanced up at his brother in terror. This question was going to kill him, wasn’t it? “Did he come with you to Erebor?”

Bilbo looked down at his feet, suddenly seeming to grow extremely sad. “He…died. About three years ago now. That’s why I came. Mama,” Dwalin flinched at the childhood name, but remained quiet, “never answered the letter I sent her two years ago, so I decided to come find her.” He looked up at them, his expression fearful and vulnerable. “You don’t think she’ll be mad, will she? I sent the letter as soon as I could! And I couldn’t wait for her to come any longer! I--” 

Seeming to remember himself suddenly, Bilbo cut himself off and looked between the two dwarves. “Is she…here? You seem to know her, so…”

Dwalin had been wrong. This was going to be the end of him. Having to tell someone who looked so much like her, who acted so much like her, who was a _part_ of her that Belladonna was dead… 

A groan of pain escaped him and Bilbo looked back at him again with worry on his face.

“Perhaps…you should come in,” Balin said, giving them both a look of concern. “We’ve a few things to discuss, I think.” 

Brow furrowing, Bilbo shook his head. “Thank you, but if she’s not--”

“Come inside,” Dwalin told him. He reached over and pulled open the door. “We all need to sit down for this.”

“Sit down? Sit down for what?” Bilbo was beginning to look genuinely alarmed again. He began backing slowly away from them again. 

“To tell you about your mother,” Balin said with a glare at Dwalin.

Ignoring him, Dwalin tromped inside and made his way to the kitchen, barely listening as Balin soothed Bilbo’s fears and promised him some tea for his troubles. He did start the kettle, however, before plopping himself into a seat at the table. After a moment, Balin came in--alone.

“I left him in the sitting room,” Balin said at Dwalin curious look. 

“Hmmmm…”

“You could be a bit kinder, Dwalin,” Balin said. “He is family. Even if we didn’t know it until just now.”

Dwalin glared hard at his brother, but he didn’t deny it, as much as he wanted to. Bilbo looked far too much like Belladonna to not be telling the truth. 

Heaving a disappointed sigh, Balin gathered the makings for a tea onto a tray: tea cups, a teapot, some sugar and cream, and some cookies. He sprinkled some tea leaves into a teapot, Belladonna’s favorite, before pouring in the now boiling water. He picked up the tray and headed out, barely glancing at Dwalin as he went. 

Dwalin sat for a moment as he was, but then stood and followed his brother to the study where he stood in the study watching as Balin served Bilbo tea. Bilbo took the tea gingerly, acting as though he wasn’t entirely sure he should. Frowning, Dwalin wondered how he could have come to be that way. Belladonna had never been so skittish, and he couldn’t see her son being so either.

Balin served himself after that, not offering Dwalin any. Either he hadn’t noticed Dwalin following him or didn’t care to comment. Whichever it was, Dwalin was happy for the reprieve.

For a few minutes, they drank their tea silently. Bilbo glanced shyly about the room, his gaze not quite meeting Dwalin. Then he seemed to find his backbone, and he turned to Balin, sitting up straighter in his chair. 

“You said you knew my mother? You’d tell me how to find her?” Bilbo stared hopefully at Balin, his face open with vulnerability.

Dwalin wished he hadn’t followed Balin now. Then again, it was good to have someone else share in his grief. She had been his. Only now he was discovering she never really had been, and the knowledge was killing him.

Setting down his teacup, Balin sat back in his chair and stared somberly at Bilbo. 

“Yes, we knew your mother,” Balin said in a soft, sad voice. “She was a good woman. Always full of life and good cheer. She brought many happy years to my brother’s life. And, through him, to mine.”

Confusion written on his face, Bilbo glanced over at Dwalin. “I don’t understand…”

“She came here about ten or so years ago, a traveler down on her luck. She stopped to work and earn a bit of coin,” Balin told him. “That’s when she met my brother. They fell in love and were married.”

“But she-- My father! He--”

“We didn’t know about her life in the Shire,” Balin interrupted and Dwalin flinched at the reminder. “She led us to believe Baggins was her maiden name. She and Dwalin had a daughter seven years ago, and then, while giving birth to a son, she died about a year ago.” 

For a moment, Bilbo stared at Balin, and then Dwalin could see tears start rolling out of his eyes. Horrified, he glanced away. That wasn’t much better, however. His eyes landed on a vase Bella had used to keep flowers in. 

“But…my letter. I sent it...two years ago…” 

“We got it after she died,” Dwalin said, shifting his gaze to the floor. The floor should be safe enough. “Never opened it.”

“You s-said you’d tell me where to find her!” There was a clink of porcelain and Dwalin looked up to see Bilbo standing, his teacup overturned on the tray. “That says she’s still alive! Not dead!” 

“We buried her in the family tomb,” Balin said, his voice soothing. He had stood too and was now trying to approach Bilbo, his hands out in supplication. “You can go to the tomb if you wish. Pay your respects.”

“I-I-I don’t want to pay my respects! I want my mother!” 

Bilbo backed away, stopping only when he found himself in a corner. He looked absolutely miserable. His face was a blotchy, puffy red, and he had tears streaming in rivulets down his cheeks now. 

Dwalin felt horrible that he’d ever wished his misery on such a young boy. Especially this boy. This was Belladonna’s son. This was _his_ step-son. Dwalin didn’t know why Belladonna had done what she’d done, but he couldn’t simply abandon his duty, his family, now that he’d come this far. Not when it was a young boy who needed him. 

“You said you hadn’t reached your age of majority yet?”

“Two more months,” Bilbo sniffed miserably. He eyed Dwalin distrustfully. “Why?”

“Who did you come here with?” Dwalin would have to find them and ensure they were taken care of as well…

Now Bilbo looked even more distrustful, shifting in place and eyeing the doorway behind Dwalin. “Why? What does it matter?”

“So we can find them and let them know you are safe, lad,” Balin said, still trying to be soothing even as he shot Dwalin a warning look. 

“They won’t care,” Bilbo told them. “They were just some human merchants I caught a ride with.”

A stone the size of the statues that guarded Erebor’s front gates dropped in Dwalin’s stomach. He really did not like the implications of that. 

“So no one from the Shire brought you? Or sent you?” Balin tossed Dwalin a worried look now. 

Shaking his head, Bilbo seemed to shrink even more in on himself. 

“Well, then…” Balin said, his eyes wide as he sat down again. 

“You’ll stay in the last bedroom then,” Dwalin told Balin even as he spoke to Bilbo. “Balin can show it to you. I’ll get dinner started.” 

“Dwalin!” Balin’s voice stopped Dwalin from turning around, and Dwalin gave him an unimpressed look. 

“He’s my step-son. I don’t care the circumstances,” Dwalin said, not caring to be argued with. “We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Then he turned and left the room, intent on starting dinner before his children arrived home for the evening.


End file.
